Command and Obey
by Orlissa
Summary: "Let's play a game" Skye whispers into his ear in a breathless, seductive voice, (...) "I'll do whatever you tell me to do," she tells him, her voice hoarse with lust, "but," she continues, rising up and grabbing his wrists, pinning them above his head, "you cannot touch me." Pure, unadulterated Skyeward smut.


**A/N:** Written for Skyeward Month, Week 2, Day 4: smut. Although I'm publishing it a bit late (because the story ran so long).

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 **Command and Obey**

"Let's play a game" Skye whispers into his ear in a breathless, seductive voice, pulling the lobe gently between her teeth, and he lets out a groan.

No, he doesn't want to play any game – any other night, he is all for it, but right he just doesn't have the patience for it. It's their first night off in more than a week, and he hasn't had her in five freaking days (it feels like an eternity), so his short-term plans – for the next five minutes – exclusively include pounding into her and making her scream his name in ecstasy. And they had been right on the path to that – clothes strewn all over the room, and they on the bed still in their underwear, making out like horny teenagers –, until about ten seconds ago.

"Oh, c'mon," she drawls, moving down his neck, nibbling on the straining tendons. "You're so gonna enjoy it."

There's something in her voice that makes him believe that he'll actually enjoy this (that, or it's just he's a complete sucker for her, and will do anything she wants). So he gives her an agreeing nod, hoping that her game doesn't have too many rules, because honestly, every second when the lips of either of them are not on some part of the other is wasted.

She grins at him, then lowers her head, licking him between his pecs before answering.

"I'll do whatever you tell me to do," she tells him, her voice hoarse with lust, "but," she continues, rising up and grabbing his wrists, pinning them above his head, "you cannot touch me," she concludes with a flirtatious grin.

Okay; he actually likes this game. A slow grin spreads on his face.

"So, let's say, if I told you to… bite me, you'd do it?"

She doesn't answer, at least not with words – she just simply lowers her head once again, places her mouth on his neck, and bites into the flesh there, strong enough that her teeth leave small indentations, white for a moment as the circulation is cut, but not strong enough to hurt him; just the way she knows turns him on.

"Oh, God…" he breaths, pleasure already cursing through his veins. Maybe this night will be even better than what he's imagine. "Now I want…" he says, trying to come up with a command to give her. "I want you to take off your bra," he says at last, still testing the waters, hands resting behind his head.

She laughs out loud at the request because it's _so him_ , but reaches behind her back and unclasps the garment, then slides the straps down her arms, pulling it off. With her breasts free, full and round and so inviting, the nipples hardened to tiny peddles, all in front of him, close enough to reach, it takes all his willpower not to reach out and take them into his palms, but he remembers the rules, and doesn't want the game to end yet.

"Now," he says, mostly to distract his own thoughts from the perfect pair of breasts in front of him, "I want you to run your tongue down my chest.

She grins at him, an expression that tells him she is enjoying it just as much as he does, then gets down to work.

She turns out to a be a little overachiever: she boldly laps at the hollow between his pectorals once again, then pulls her head to the side, her lips closing around his nipple, sucking, before she moves to the other. The she moves lower, careful to give equal attention to every ridge of his abs, swirling the tip of her tongue around his navel, and finishing her journey at the jut of his hipbone, nipping at the delicate skin there.

By the time she looks up at him again, expectantly, he is completely hard – his blood had been rushing downward before as it is, but now he's entering the painful territory.

"Now?" she asks, waiting for his next request, as if she doesn't know what he's going to ask.

"Take off my boxers," he commands, although it sounds like more of a plea to his ears.

She could just grab it and pull it down, but no; where's the fun in that? Instead she bends her head again, kisses his stomach just above the hem, then takes the elastic waist between her teeth, and starts pulling it. It's slow, much slower than simply pulling it down (and definitely slower than his usual method ripping her panties off of her), but damn, it is one of the most erotic things he has ever seen.

She pulls his boxers down far enough that his impressive erection – swollen to full size, painfully ready, a drop of precum glistening on the top of the head – can spring free, then takes the garment into her hands, and quickly rids him of it. She sits back for a moment, enjoying the sight in front of her (just as he is enjoying the sight in front of him), then looks at him with a sultry smile, waiting for the next order.

"Take me into your mouth," he commands boldly, not taking his eyes off of her lips for a moment.

The corners of her mouth twitch, then she scouts back a little, standing on all fours above his legs. With a seductive look shot at him from under her lashes, she takes his hardened member in her hand (he hisses), steadies him, then wraps her lips around him.

Damn, is she good at this. He has no idea where she's learned this – to be honest, he doesn't even want to know –, but the truth remains that she has always been able to render him near-useless with a blowjob (a power she sometimes abuses).

Just like now – her fingers maddeningly stroking the part of him that won't fit into her mouth while she sucks on him, swirling her tongue around the head, hollowing her cheeks out, and pulling him even deeper. At one point, just not to be too boring, he reckons, she lets go of him, pulling her mouth off of him with a small pop, before sticking her tongue out and running the tip of it along the underside of his cock from tip to base, then switching sides and licking along the upper curve of it, from the base to the tip, where then she makes a circle with her tongue around the purplish head.

This is the moment he almost loses it; it's just too much, the sensation of her lips and warm, wet tongue on him, and watching her do it, her hair, like a shiny curtain, hiding her face as she gently bobs her head. He can't take it anymore – he reaches out, ready to bury his fingers in her hair, simply just to feel the silken tresses, and also to help her keep rhythm, help her movements along. But she somehow sees this from the corner of her eyes, so she rises in an instant, grabbing his wrists and, with a little force, pushing them back to the pillow, behind his head, where they belong.

"What did I tell you about touching, hah?" she asks him, hovering above him, her breasts – most likely purposefully – hanging in front of his face. "Do you want me to tie you up? Because that's what I'm doing the next time you try to touch me without being allowed to."

He kind of wants her to tie him up, but he gets her point; these are not the rules right now. So he lets his hands rest behind his head, his fingers gripping his own short hair instead of her long locks.

"Good boy," she drawls, kissing him on the mouth (he can faintly taste himself on her lips), before crawling down his body and taking him – impatiently twitching – into her mouth again.

This time there's no mercy as she sucks on him, her intentions to bring him to his climax clear. Her head bobs in a frantic rhythm over him, her lips tight around his shaft as her fingers play with the base of his member. It soon has the desired effect – he can fell a coil of pleasure wound tightly in the base of his spine, ready to spring free; he has to grab the headboard – he is gripping it so hard he's half afraid he is going to splinter the wood – to keep himself from reaching for her. He bucks his hips in tandem with her head, biting into his lip not to moan out loud. It's all to no avail – the moment her teeth gently graze his shaft, a low moan resonates from the depths of his throat.

He is close, so close he can all but feel the sweet taste of orgasm on his tongue.

"Can I come in your mouth?" he finds himself asking the next moment. He wants to – there's some carnal possessiveness in the act of it, and he longs for it –, and yet, slightly going against the rules, he doesn't command her to take his load in her mouth, but asks permission for it.

She doesn't let him go to answer, just glances at him from under her lashes, her dark brown orbs shimmering with lust, then starts sucking him with even greater ferocity.

He doesn't need a minute more, and he is unwinding, his muscles going rigid, the effects of his orgasm flooding his senses. His mind going blank in pleasure, he can feel his member twitch wildly as he shoots his seed into her welcoming mouth in sudden, hot spurts; and a beat later, his member softening between her lips, he can feel her swallow, his milky-white juices sliding down her throat.

She sure is going to be the death of him.

Letting him go – but giving him one last, loving caress as she takes him from her mouth –, she rises to her knees and smiles down at him smugly, licking her lips. She is nowhere near being done, he can see that – her eyes are veiled with desire, her pert nipples hardened to small points, and he swears, even in the dim light of the bedside lamp, he can see a dark, wet patch on her panties.

It must be driving her crazy.

His heart still beating wildly, and having barely caught his breath, he rises to his elbows and a smirk on his lips, he meets her eyes.

The game is not over yet.

"Touch yourself," he commands (since he can't do it for her according to the rules) in a firm voice.

"What?" she asks, surprised but grinning.

"You heard it," he tells her in an even, confident voice. "I want you to touch yourself. I want to see you playing with yourself. And you know the rules," he adds with a teasing smirk, making her know that their game is still on, "you have to do what I tell you to do."

A slow grin spreads on her face, getting what he means to do. Carefully stretching her long, shapely legs, she stands up, turns her back to him, and bending down – giving him an excellent view of her rear – she pulls down her panties, throwing the garment over her shoulder. It hits him in the face – purposefully, he's sure –, and he grabs it, pressing it against his nose for a moment to inhale the sweet scent of her arousal. He thinks he might be keeping this.

She turns around then, showing him her full, nude front, and climbs back to the bed, settling herself, legs spread, over his knees, so her lips part slightly, and he can catch a glance of her glistening core.

"How do you want me to touch myself?" she asks obediently, stroking his thighs. He lies back down against the pillows, sliding his arms under his head, feigning nonchalance.

"Start with your tits," he commands. "Cup them in your hands; feel their weight. Pinch the nipples."

She flashes him a little grin.

"Somehow like this?" she asks, raising her hands to her breast, massaging the soft mounds, rolling the nipples between her fingers.

"Just like that," he agrees, thoroughly enjoying the sight in front of him. "Imagine it's my hands touching you."

She must do so, for she lets out a moan from the depths of her throat, her head rolling back in pleasure. This picture is enough for his arousal to start stirring again.

He lets her go on for a little bit, his fingers clenching into fists behind his head and biting into his lip to retain some resemblance to control. He is itching to touch her, but he doesn't want to end the game yet; although there's this little voice in the back of his mind, telling him that it's all just a challenge – that he is meant to break the rules, and she just want to see how long he'd last.

No pun intended.

"That's enough for now," he tells her after some time, his voice quivering slightly with anticipation. "Now reach between your legs – rub your clit. I want to hear you moan."

She is not grinning anymore – too invested in her pleasure, she just does what she's been told, slipping her graceful fingers (the nails painted cerulean blue; it's astonishing, all the details he notices about her now) between her glistening folds, playing around the inner lips for a couple of moments before her fingers find her clit, stroking it roughly in circles, rocking her hips to the rhythm of her hand.

He watches her mesmerized for a while, as her fingers work between her slick folds, desperately wishing to be her hand. Or maybe just taste her – would she obey if he told her to climb over his face, so he could eat her out, he wonders? Technically he wouldn't be touching her, at least not with his hands – but still, that might be pushing her rules.

So he settles for the next best thing.

"That's enough for now," he tells her, and she stills almost instantly, her pleasure-addled brain needing a moment to process the command; she looks at him, waiting. "Good girl. Now slip a finger inside."

Her lashes flutter, but she obeys without a comment, slipping a single finger inside her core. She lets out a quite needy, disappointed moan.

"What's wrong?" he asks, teasing. "Is it not enough?"

She whimpers.

"Not nearly."

"Then slip inside another. Curl them; feel the texture of your walls," he commands her, his own dick twitching, hardening again. "Do it!"

A second finger soon joins the first, and he can see how the tendons in the back of hand flex as she curls them inside, the pleasure clearly written on her face as the pads of her fingers reach a particularly sweet spot. But he can tell it's still not enough.

"How does it feel?" he asks, rising a little against the pillows. "Are they enough to make you come?" All he gets as an answer is just another whimper. "Answer me!"

Her hips rock against her hand, desperately seeking for something that can tip her over the edge, but she just can't seem to find it.

"No, they're not," she replies at last, her voice hoarse.

"Why not?" he inquires, his own hand sneaking down to curl around his member; Skye doesn't even notices this just yet, but then again, she never said he can't' touch himself.

"Too slender…" she pants, "and short. Can't reach places. I need you – thick and long, oh… _I need you_."

This is what he has been wanting to hear.

"Good," he nods, hand working on his now rock-hard erection. "Take your hand off of yourself now and come here."

This time she doesn't even waste a second, but obeys him, placing her hands next to his hips and crawling over him.

"Kiss me," he commands, and she does, leaning in to reach him (her nipples are grazing his chest, and the tip of his member just touching the mound over her opening). Her lips attacks his in a frenzied kiss, her tongue slipping inside the hot cavern of his mouth, showing him that he might be the one who gives the orders now, but she is the one who is really leading this dance.

When they come up for air, she rests her forehead against his, panting her hips dropping just half an inch.

"Good," he says, breathless. He swallows, one hand still on his dick, the other gripping the bedsheets. "Now take me inside you – but not just take; impale yourself on me. Take me in one, swift stroke. You can do that, right? You are ready enough?"

If it weren't for her no-touch rule, he'd slap her ass playfully now; or would just feel for himself how ready she is. But since the rule is still in effect, he settles for nipping her lower lip before she rises from him, grinning.

"Of course," she assures him as she sits up, replaces his hand with her own fingers around his dick to steady him, and positions herself over him, the tip of his erection just slipping between her outer lips.

She looks deep into his eyes, daring, as she licks her lips, getting ready.

And then, without further warning, she sinks down on him – in one swift, forceful stroke, just like he asked. Her eyes flutter closed and she throws her head back, a small cry escaping her lips, just as his eyes roll back and he moans loudly at suddenly being enveloped by her hot, tight walls.

He has been waiting for this the whole night.

She takes a second or two to adjust, but then starts moving in a desperate rhythm, rolling her hips against his, rising and falling, his member stretching her sweetly, the tip of him hitting the entrance of her womb with every touch.

He's been good for a long time, but now, with her head thrown back, her mouth open in pleasure, with her breasts alluringly jiggling in front of him, the nipples dark and hard, and with seeing their intimate connection, the way his shaft, glistening with her juices, keeps slipping out of her, just to be enveloped once again, he just can't bear it anymore. So to the hell with her rules – he's rather lose than not to touch her, and it's not like she'll stop now –, he grabs her hips, gripping them hard, and helping her move.

She doesn't seem to mind.

They both had been beautifully worked up when she finally took him, so it doesn't take them long to reach absolution. Before long his orgasm starts coiling at the base of his spine once again, ready lash out. He means to take her with him as well, so before he would break, he raises his hand to rub her clit, but he barely reaches it when she starts to tighten even more, her walls clamping around him rhythmically.

They come together, wild and loud, her core contracting with such a force it almost feels like she's going to crush him, while he empties himself into her, shouting her name (she cries his, too, her back snapping into a beautiful arch, technically fulfilling everything he has wanted from this night).

When the powerful wave of their shared orgasm calms, she slumps against him, her skin glistening with perspiration, her hair sticking to her back as she sighs contently against his chest. He is having a hard time catching his breath, or even just slipping back into reality after such a trip to the skies. She wriggles against him, nuzzling her face against his neck as she slowly calms, her core still twitching slightly as his now soft member slips free from her, his sticky, white load dripping down between her thighs.

"You were right," he says after some time, still breathing heavily, pushing his fingers through his hair. "I _really_ enjoyed this game. We should play it again."

He can feel her chuckle against his neck.

"Okay, but next time I am giving the orders."

"Alright – but only if I can blindfold you."

"Hm… you got yourself a deal."


End file.
